


a tension, a balance, an energy between

by squadrickchestopher



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Banter, Fluff and Humor, Jedi Bucky Barnes, Multi, POV Clint Barton, The Force, WinterWidowHawk, dramatic escapes, princess natasha romanov, this is basically self indulgence in a birthday gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: Natasha is arrested by Stormtroopers while stealing the Death Star plans. Clint and Bucky come to rescue her.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	a tension, a balance, an energy between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hopelessly_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/gifts).



> This is basically self-indulgent crack disguised as a birthday present for [hopelessly_me.](https://hopelessly-me.tumblr.com/). Love you darlin, hope you had a good birthday. <3 
> 
> No beta, mistakes are mine and I'm not sharing.
> 
> ETA: flowerparrish made a LOVELY [podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770168) out of this story, please go give it a listen and all the screams it deserves!

“Duck!”

Clint hears the word and drops to the floor, arms covering his head. A second later, blaster fire cuts through the air where he was standing a moment ago—too close for comfort, he’s gotta pay more attention—and he flips over on his back, returning fire.

“Clint!” Bucky crawls over to him, snagging a hand in his shirt and dragging him around the corner. “You okay?”

“Great,” Clint says, getting to his feet. “Thank you.”

“Pay _attention_ ,” Bucky orders, before kissing him fiercely. “If you die on this rescue mission, I’m going to kill you.”

Clint grins at him. “How you gonna manage that?”

“I’ll figure it out.” He points down the hall. “Come on, we gotta move.”

They start running again, skidding around corners and sprinting down hallways. Clint can feel himself losing hope with every turn they make. They’re ditching their pursuers, yes, but he has no clue where they are “This Star Destroyer is a damn maze, Buck. We’re never gonna find her in time.”

Bucky holds up a black datapad. “I stole this off a guard. I know exactly where she is.”

Clint punches the air. “Hell yeah. Let’s get our girl and get out—”

“Hands in the air!” yells a voice behind them.

Clint freezes, then slowly raises his hands. “Don’t shoot,” he says, glancing at Bucky. “We’re not here to cause trouble, we’re just—”

“Clint?”

He spins around, then, because he _knows_ that voice— “Natasha!”

There’s a slim figure in a hooded cloak standing behind them, but as soon as he finishes her name, she’s shoving the hood down, her red hair spilling everywhere. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We’re rescuing you,” Clint says, grinning brightly at her. “Guess we should’ve counted on you getting yourself out.”

Natasha smiles back, a mix of relief and fondness on her face, and lowers her blaster. “You two okay?”

Bucky pulls her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. “You’re alive,” he says.

“I’m alive,” she agrees, tilting her head up and kissing him. “Did you think otherwise?”

“We were worried,” Clint says, and she leans over to kiss him too. “Last we saw you, you were getting picked up by Stormtroopers.” He thumbs over a bruise on her cheek. “They do this to you?”

“They weren’t telling me bedtime stories,” she says. “But they didn’t guess who I was, either, so they weren’t as cruel as they could’ve been.” She pulls her hood back up. “But we need to go. Were you boys smart enough to come up with an exit plan?”

“Course we were,” Clint says, pitching a frantic sideways glance at Bucky.

Bucky shrugs at him, and Natasha sighs. “Girl’s gotta do everything herself around here, apparently.” She tugs the datapad out of Bucky’s hand. “Alright. How’d you get on board?”

“Stole a shuttle,” Bucky says. “Pretended we were bringing in weapons. Parked it in cargo bay C.”

“This way, then.” She points down the hallway. “Two lefts, three rights, that’ll give us some distance, put us in the right spot.”

Clint raises his blaster, moving down the hallway. “Once we’re out, we can contact the Rebellion. They’ve got escort ships waiting just behind the third moon.”

“That’s too close,” Natasha says. “That’s within range—”

“Easy, Princess,” Bucky says. “We’ve got all the shielding we need. It’s not our first rodeo.”

“Don’t call me that.” She peers around the corner, then waves them on.

“But you are a princess,” Bucky says, grinning at Clint.

Clint grins back, happy to have both his partners alive and well, at least for the moment. “He’s got a point.”

“We’re on a mission, boys. Be serious.” But there’s a smile to her voice, and fondness in the way she trails her fingers over Bucky’s arm. “Let’s get out of here, I’m tired of this. I want a shower. And hot food. And to sleep.”

“I imagine the room service here is shit,” Clint says.

Bucky laughs. “Lousy wakeup calls.”

“Limited breakfast.”

“Daily interrogation.”

“Occasional torture.”

“No coffee.”

Clint gasps. “How _dare_ they, that’s beyond cruel—”

“Only to you, you know the rest of the world gets by without seven cups—”

“Rude, Buckaroo, I—”

“Boys!” Nat says, holding up a hand and fixing them both with a steely-eyed glare, even if she can’t quite hide the amusement. “I love you and I missed you, but can we keep the squabbling to a minimum until we’re safe from the Empire?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint says, and they turn another corner. “How much further?”

“Should be the next left.” Nat squints at the datapad, turning it in her hand. “Unless it’s a right.”

“How are you so good at _everything,_ but absolute shit with directions?” Bucky asks, taking it from her. “It’s a right.”

Natasha glares at him. “I’m great at directions,” she says. “Leave me alone.”

“You got lost in the Tatooine market,” Clint reminds her. “Twice.”

“I was looking for _you_ , you scruffy nerf—”

She cuts off as they emerge into the cargo bay. The good news is it’s the right bay; Clint can see the ship they came in. It’s maybe fifty meters away, gleaming and shiny and unguarded.

The _bad_ news is, there’s about a dozen Stormtroopers right by the entrance, and as the three of them step into the cargo bay, they all turn to look.

There’s an awkward moment where they all stare at each other, both groups unsure what to do. Bucky’s hand twitches like he’s going to go for his blaster, and Nat is deadly still next to him, whipcord tense and ready for anything.

“Hi,” Clint says, breaking the silence. “Anyone know where to get some decent coffee around here?”

One of the troopers points at Natasha. “She’s the prisoner!”

Instantly, there’s a dozen blasters aimed at them. “Stand down,” one of the others says. “Lower your weapons, put them on the ground.”

Clint glances at Bucky. “Or,” he says, “and hear me out here—we could _not_ do that, and you could just…let us go.”

They’re not amused by that. “Weapons down,” the second one says again. “Or we shoot.”

“Do it,” Bucky murmurs, and he drops his blaster, kicking it over to them. “Got an idea.”

“Oh, joy,” Clint mutters back, but he does the same, and so does Natasha. Then they’re all unarmed, hands in the air. “Now what?”

“You’re coming with us,” one of them says, stepping forward.

As soon as he’s in reach, Bucky moves. He drops his cloak, silver left hand reaching for the slim metal cylinder at his waist. There’s a _snap-hiss_ of the lightsaber igniting, and then Bucky’s face is illuminated in icy blue. He looks _dangerous,_ deadly, expression cold as he surveys the group.

“It’s the Winter Jedi,” one of the Stormtroopers, says, abject terror in his voice. “It’s—oh no—”

“Go,” Bucky says. “This is your only chance.”

And some of them _do,_ which Clint finds endlessly amusing. So much for the Empire’s finest. But six of them don’t, keeping their blasters up and ready. “Surrender your weapon,” one says, which would probably sound more intimidating if his voice wasn’t shaking.

Bucky lets out a short laugh. “No.”

“Then prepare to—”

To what, Clint never finds out. Bucky moves like water, fluidly stepping forward and striking out with his lightsaber. It’s poetry in motion, watching him fight. Clint’s perfectly capable of handling himself in a scrape, but he can’t deny it’s just nice sometimes to sit back and watch Bucky kick ass from here to next week.

The last of the Stormtroopers flees, and Bucky lets him go, watching him vanish around the corner before putting the lightsaber back on his belt.

“Fuck, you’re hot when you get all menacing,” Clint says. Bucky turns and grins at him, overly pleased with himself, and Clint just has to kiss it off him.

“Come on,” Natasha says. “We’re not out yet.” She tugs them apart, stealing her own kiss from Bucky. “Which ship?”

“That one.” Clint points to it. “It’s a—”

He doesn’t get to finish. An alarm suddenly blares overhead, red lights flashing through the bay. Nat swears and sweeps their blasters off the floor, tossing them to Clint and Bucky. “Move,” she orders. “Now!”

They get onto the ship, and Natasha settles herself in the pilot’s chair, flipping switches with ease. Clint loves watching her fly—she’s never met a ship she couldn’t handle, and it’s both amazingly badass and unreasonably hot.

He wonders, sometimes, how he got so damn lucky as to get this. A princess and a Jedi, both of them amazing and capable of a million things, and they’re interested in _him_ —just a good-for-nothing smuggler with more arrests than letters in his name—

“Hang on,” Nat says, and she pulls back on the controls. “We’re gonna have to pull the tether, this is gonna hurt—”

“Hurt us or the ship?” Bucky asks.

“Both.” She throws the throttle forward, and the engines whine, high-pitched and distressed. Then the ship lurches, hurling Clint face-first into the dashboard.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry. “Hang on more—”

“Oh sure, _great_ advice—”

Bucky laughs. “You okay?”

“My nose hurts,” Clint says. “And my pride.”

“You’re fine,” Nat says. The blast doors are closing, but too slowly to be any good. The shuttle slips through them, easily gliding out into the darkness of space, just another glittery speck among the stars. They fly fast, meet up with the Rebel fleet, destroy the Empire’s ships, and flee into hyperspace to celebrate with drinks somewhere.

Or at least, that’s what happens in Clint’s head. In reality, their ship bursts out the hangar doors, and immediately runs into a line of TIE fighters.

“Shit,” Nat mutters.

The radio crackles. “You are outnumbered. Surrender now, or face the consequences.”

“Not to be dramatic,” Clint says, “but I think we’re all going to die.”

The statement gets him a narrow-eyed glare that clearly says _shut up, Clint,_ from Natasha. Bucky snickers, but when she turns it on him, he quails a little, the grin instantly vanishing from his face.

“We’re not going to die,” she says. “Have some faith in me.”

“I have so much faith in you,” Clint says. “But that’s a lot of TIE fighters.”

“Yeah,” she says, reaching for the controls. “And I’m the best damn pilot in the galaxy.”

Clint might take offense to that, but honestly, she’s probably right. She’s incredible. Absolutely incredible. She ducks and weaves among the TIE fighters with speed and accuracy that can’t be _taught_ —it’s just something innate, something in her bones.

Clint, for his part, just mans the controls on his side, and does his best to help her. And Bucky, as per his usual, clings to a seat in the back and retches.

“You know,” Clint says as the ship drops sharply, “I find it funny that you’re the most feared, most badass guy in the whole damn galaxy, and yet you throw up almost every time we get in a ship.”

“Because you fly like _maniacs_. Both of you.”

“Stop talking if you want to live,” Natasha says sweetly, and they both instantly clam up. “Bucky, make yourself useful and go shoot something.”

“This ship doesn’t have guns.”

“What? Why did you steal a ship without guns?”

“We were in a hurry!”

“There’s always time to pick a ship with guns,” she says seriously. “Fine. Contact the fleet.”

“ _That_ I can do,” Bucky says, leaning over Clint. He flips a couple switches and the subspace transceiver crackles to life. “Stark? Come in, Stark. We got her.”

“I’m not answering to that,” says the tinny voice of Tony Stark.

“I’m not fuckin’ calling you Iron Man,” Bucky says. “And we could use some backup.”

“Yeah, we can see that. Sending the Avengers out to you now.”

Natasha groans. “Those rust buckets? They can’t fly!”

“Look, Princess, if you’re gonna be picky, then you can have no backup at all. How about that?”

“Stark—”

“Just send the damn backup,” Clint says. “We can all yell at each other when we’re safely outta here, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Stark says, as Natasha rolls the ship to the side. “Hang on tight, we’re coming in—“

Natasha rolls the ship the other way, which has the entertaining effect of making Bucky turn green. “Why?” he whispers, and Natasha just grins widely before yanking the ship upright with a fierce acceleration. Even Clint’s stomach twists a little at that, but it pulls them free and clear of the ships chasing them, giving enough room for Stark’s Avengers to slip into place.

“There we go,” she says triumphantly, slamming the throttle forward. “They can play target practice with those pieces of junk.”

Stark makes an offended sound. “Those are state-of-the-art, unmanned, high-tech—”

“Shut up,” Clint and Bucky both say, and Natasha laughs.

“One minute to jump,” she says. “Strap in, boys.”

From behind Clint comes the frantic sounds of Bucky’s harness clicking into place. “I hate this,” he mutters, and Clint snickers.

Stark’s voice echoes over the link. “Watch it, guys. They’re trying to catch you in a—”

“Tractor beam, yeah.” Natasha’s jovial tone is gone now, traded for seriousness in the blink of an eye. “I know. But we’re close, I’m just gonna keep going. The hyperdrive’s already calculated the jump.”

Clint tenses. “Anything we can do?”

“Fingers crossed,” Nat mutters, eyes on the controls. “Thirty seconds, now.”

Clint looks at the display. “There’s a—” he starts, pointing at the dot moving at them.

“I _see_ it,” she says, teeth gritted. “But there’s nothing I can do—”

He glances back at Bucky, who’s sitting still with his eyes closed. His face is blank, almost relaxed. Jedi things, then.

On the display, the dot chasing them suddenly veers off, and Bucky opens his eyes, blinking a few times. “Got it.”

“What did you do?”

“Jedi things,” Bucky says with a grin, and Clint laughs before turning forward again.

Natasha’s smile is back in place. “Ten seconds,” she says. “Bucky, if you throw up again, you’re cleaning it.”

“That was _one_ time,” Bucky mutters, and then the ship lurches a little as the stars become streaks of light, and the comforting grey cocoon of hyperspace wraps around them. Bucky makes a sick noise, but he doesn’t throw up.

Clint lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands from the controls. “Okay,” he says, and turns to look at them both. “So the question is, was all that worth it?”

Natasha reaches into her cloak and pulls out a small disk. “That answer your question?”

“You got ‘em,” Clint says, sighing in relief.

“I got them.”

Bucky claps. “I knew you could do it.”

“Says the guy who tried to stop me from going in the first place.” She smiles at him.

“Is it a crime to want to keep you safe?”

“We just love you,” Clint agrees. “Also, I’m pretty sure the Rebellion would fall to pieces without you.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” she says. “They’ve got you and Bucky.”

Something in Clint warms at her statement, the easy inclusion of him. Bucky’s a _Jedi,_ of course he’s useful. But to hear her put him on the same level—

Well. It makes him feel all kinds of nice things.

He leans over and kisses her. “Don’t sell yourself short. We’d at least panic a little.”

“A lot,” Bucky adds, undoing his harness. “We’d panic a lot.”

“I’m sure,” Natasha says, turning on the autopilot. She stands up and stretches, then holds a hand out to Clint.“Come on. I want to sleep. We have a few hours before we arrive, and I’m not anticipating any surprises.”

Bucky snorts. “That’s dangerous.”

“It is,” Clint agrees. “Surprises sure as hell seem to anticipate us.”

“In the past week, I infiltrated a Star Destroyer, stole their top-secret plans, got arrested, and managed to escape,” she says. “I want to spend some time with my boys. The galaxy _owes_ me that much.”

“Balance in the Force and all that,” Clint says with all the seriousness he can muster. “I think there’s a couple of beds in the back.”

“That’s not how the Force works,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes, and Natasha snickers, wrapping a hand in his tunic as she goes by.

“Come on. Both of you. There’s a bunk calling my name.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Bucky says, getting up as she pulls him along. “Clint kicks in his sleep. We need you as a buffer.”

“I do not, you rotten liar.”

“Yes, you do,” Bucky and Nat both say.

“You guys suck.” Clint pushes past both of them and flops on one of the bunks, sprawling over it. “This one’s mine, then. I’ll kick all I want and won’t bother anyone.”

Bucky drags the blankets and pillows off the beds, piling them onto the floor. “Get down here, you big baby. I want both of you with me.”

Clint rolls off the bunk, boosting himself a little so he lands on top of Bucky, grinning at the muffled curse it gets him. “There. Payback.”

“Big baby,” Bucky says again, arranging him to a more comfortable position. Natasha curls up against him on his other side, and then it’s like they were never apart, like the past few weeks were nothing but a fever dream. This is where he belongs, between the two of them. This is the only place he’s ever felt whole.

“I love you,” he says to both of them.

“Love you too,” Nat says, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re both idiots, but I love you.”

“Hey now,” Bucky says, offended. “We infiltrated a Star Destroyer and rescued you. Could two idiots pull that off?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, throwing an elbow back at her. “Don’t we deserve loving thanks for dramatically risking ourselves like that?”

She snorts and shoves him. “I didn’t say it wasn’t _appreciated_. Just that you’re both idiots for coming in there without an escape plan.”

“We had a plan,” Clint says confidently.

“Uh-huh. Was it that I would have a plan?”

“…No?”

Nat sighs, but he can tell she’s smiling. “Go to sleep,” she says. “Things are going to be crazy as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. This is probably the last nice moment we’re going to have for awhile.”

“But you got them,” Clint says, rolling over to face her. Bucky makes a muffled noise of irritation and wraps an arm around him, dragging him closer. “The Death Star plans.”

“Yeah,” she says, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I got them.”

Clint thumbs over the bruise on her face. “Sorry I wasn’t faster,” he murmurs. “I tried to save you.”

“You did the best you could,” she whispers. “No one could have done any better. Not me, not Bucky, not a single person in the whole Rebellion. There was nothing anyone could have done, and I refuse to sit here and listen to you beat yourself up about it.”

Clint leans his forehead against hers. “Okay.”

“I love you,” she says, and kisses him. “We’re all here. We’re together, we’re alive, and we’re one step ahead of the Empire. This is a good day, Clint.”

“It’s a good day,” Clint agrees. “Plus, we got to see Bucky go all Winter Jedi, which is always a bonus.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“’S not that scary,” Bucky mutters.

“It’s very scary,” Clint says. “It’s also very hot. We like it.”

“We do,” Nat confirms.

Bucky snorts and pokes him in the ribs. “Shut up, both of you.”

“Mm.” Clint lays his head on his arm and curls up a little tighter. “Can we get some decent coffee when we’re planet-side? For all the Empire has in riches and glory, they’ve got really lousy coffee.”

“All the coffee you can drink,” Nat promises.

“Oh no,” Bucky says. “Don’t offer him that. They’ll never forgive us.”

Clint grins. “Challenge accepted. May the Force be with me.”

Bucky mutters something into his shoulder, and Natasha hides a smile. Clint throws an arm over her waist, feeling her legs tangle into his as Bucky’s arm wraps securely over his chest.

 _Welcome home,_ he thinks, and he closes his eyes—warm and happy, and for the moment, safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title from The Last Jedi: "The Force is not a power you have. It’s not about lifting rocks. It’s the energy between all things, a tension, a balance, that binds the universe together.” I thought it described the relationship here nicely.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic of] a tension, a balance, an energy between](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770168) by [Flowerparrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish)




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